


Change a Raven

by goblynn



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Diavora, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goblynn/pseuds/goblynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had an image stuck in my head, and wrote this in order to satisfy the thought. The title is drawn from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream—“Who will not change a raven for a dove?” ...I’m also getting a Leda and the Swan vibe off of this, but I assure you, it is NOT that kind of fic.</p><p>Originally posted on my tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change a Raven

Aurora lay in the tall grasses of the Moors, letting the cool earth leach her cares and frustrations from her very bones. Life as Queen of the Two Realms was challenging in many ways—not all of them positive—and when it became too much, she retreated to the solitude and peacefulness of her godmother’s world. The courtiers did not follow her past the borders, out of fear and respect for Maleficent, and she reveled in being able to shed her royal façade and be only _Aurora_.

Today, her concerns niggled at the back of her mind far more than usual. Her council had brought to her attention, yet again, that she was of marriageable age and must consider taking a husband. “It will strengthen your rule,” they said, “and ensure peace by reestablishing the royal line.” She thought them foolish, but knew in her heart that she could not dissuade them much longer. Six years she had ruled alone—learning and growing into her position, her youth and naïveté securing peace at their borders—if only because the neighboring kingdoms each felt confident that _their_ prince would win her hand. Now she had delayed and rejected most of them, and unrest was stirring. She was not afraid, for the Moors and the creatures inhabiting this land were her willing subjects—they would fight for her, if asked—but she wished for peace for her people, and would do whatever necessary to ensure it.

Yet she yearned for her own happiness, and that desire had taken her to this meadow.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a distant call. She blinked against the sunlight, searching the sky above, finally spotting the broad, dark wings of a raven overhead. It flew in lazy circles above the Moors, gliding lower and lower—until, wings brushing against the grasses, it shifted into the form of a man, landing gracefully on his feet.

“Diaval!” She sat up, hands outstretched.

He smiled down at her, taking one hand in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “My lady.”

She blushed prettily. “Diaval, please—here, we are equals.”

“No one could hope to be your equal, Aurora.”

Her laughter rang brightly. “Flattery is sinful, Diaval. You shall make me vain.”

He dropped to the ground at her side. “Impossible. You are too good.”

Aurora shook her head. “I am human, and therefore weak.”

“No weaker than I.”

“You are a bird, and know aught of weakness.”

Diaval looked away. “I am as much a man as a bird.” He picked at a blade of grass, tearing it into thin strips. “I fear I am _more_ man than bird, now.”

“How so?”

“Since Maleficent gave me this power—to choose my shape when I please—I find myself walking more than flying…and thinking man-thoughts rather than bird-thoughts.” He threw down the grass. “I am forgetting how to be a bird.”

Aurora’s hand rested on his arm. “Then you shall have to be a very good man, instead.”

His eyes were wide and dark, looking into hers. “I do not know how.”

Her dimpled grin smote his heart.

“Then I shall teach you!” She sprang to her feet. “Firstly, you must be respectful. You must show a lady every courtesy—do not be brash or ruthless. Furthermore, do not permit yourself to go too far into your cups—drunkenness is a bad habit, and one to be avoided.” She shuddered. “Far too many men behave foolishly after a bit of wine.”

He watched her pace, treading the grasses flat.

“Next…oh, next you must be brave.” She stopped, turning to look at him. “Are you brave, Diaval?”

He shook his head. “No, milady. I am a coward.”

She smiled widely. “Silly bird! You are the bravest man I know. You were a dragon, once, do you remember? What sort of dragon is cowardly?”

“Ah, yes—but I was a dragon, then, and now I am only a man.”

Her smile softened. “The same heart resides in them both.”

Diaval turned away, looking across the Moors. “What more must I learn?”  
  
“There is but one lesson remaining: you must love deeply and with fidelity.” Aurora’s voice was closer than before, and he felt her kneel upon the ground behind him. Her breath blew against his ear. “Diaval…do you love me?”

He tore away from her, leaping up as he shifted into his bird-form. He heard her shout his name as he felt her hand close upon one of his legs, trapping him. His bird-instincts overwhelmed him, and he fought, wings beating against her face. She clung to him, wrapping her free hand around his back, and pulled him against her body.

After a time, he ceased to struggle, and she cradled him to her bosom, lowering them both to the ground. His outstretched wings covered her shoulder-to-shoulder, his head resting above her heart. Her hands stroked his feathers, her voice murmuring soothingly. “Do not be afraid.”

He fluttered against her, once more attempting escape.

“Diaval, please—” her voice hitched, “please don’t go. I love you, you silly bird—pretty bird. _My_ pretty bird.”

He shifted again, becoming a man, his weight pressing her deeply into the grass. She gasped under him, eyes wide. He moved to push himself off, but she stayed him with a hand upon his cheek.

“Do you love me, Diaval? Tell me truly.” Her fingers traced the scars alongside his eyes.

He nodded, pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist. “As much as any born as a man. Perhaps more.”

She blushed, and he kissed her soundly.


End file.
